


To Be Free

by LeviSqueaks



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Captivity, Chains, Falling In Love, Feeling Trapped, M/M, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25009891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeviSqueaks/pseuds/LeviSqueaks
Summary: Jamie Fraser had always been captive. Whether in shackles, by the choices of others, or in his own mind. But time heals and love realized can set one free. For the Iron/Chains square on the Outlander Bingo 2020 Challenge, and the Captivity square in the Bad Things Happen Bingo.
Relationships: Jamie Fraser/Lord John Grey
Comments: 14
Kudos: 55
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Outlander Bingo Challenge





	To Be Free

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carpelucem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpelucem/gifts).



> A gift for the lovely Carpelucem. Thank you so much for your support!

To Be Free

Jamie Fraser stared at the heavy shackles weighing down his wrists as he sat huddled between Geordie and Robbie McNab. Despite the close proximity to his brothers, Jamie couldn't shake the icy shards that pierced to the bones. He curled in on himself, his stomach cramping with hunger and skin dry enough from lack of water that it felt as if it might split open at the lightest touch. His cracked lips ached badly when he opened his mouth to unclench his jaw, the ripping sensation barely eased when blood welled at the deep cuts.    
  
His wrists had slowly darkened and calloused under the unfeeling irons that had resided on his wrists for two long years. He groaned, eyes fluttering shut as he let his head fall back to the damp stone behind him. July already and yet the prison was as cold and damp as ever. A scurrying noise followed by a heavy thud and a sharp squeal. There was a soft murmur of appreciation from the far side of the cell. 

Jamie was no stranger to feeling trapped, captive. Even in his youth the bounds and constraints of his station and circumstance made him a prisoner. Though he’d rather the prison that let him sleep nameless in a stable than the unfeeling stone that held him captive now. One hand crossed to the other, picking obsessively at the bleeding gash from where he had stumbled cutting thrash and the metal had sliced into the edge of his palm. 

There were rumors, ken. Of a new governor that was coming in to run the prison. Jamie pitied the poor bastard that had fallen so far from grace that he had been shipped here. Geordie coughed harshly beside Jamie, his breath a weak rattle as he tried to fill his lungs again. Jamie patted him hard on the back and tugged him close so he would rest against Jamie’s shoulder, “Easy there, Geordie, relax.” 

They had already been out to the fields today and the light and fresh air only made returning to the pitched, stinking gloom of the cells worse. 

But this wasn’t the only captivity that Jamie had endured. 

Jamie reckoned that he had been captive since his father had died. Since he’d been shipped off, nameless to his uncles. He had served faithfully at Dougal’s side, pleading fealty to Colum. He had fought against the British, and had defended his homeland. But he had never had a choice in how or why. His orders came from Dougal and those orders had been their own type of shackle. 

Then he had met Claire, sweet Claire. Her soul and mouth had fire that burned constantly in opposition to everyone else. She had defied Colum, Dougal, the French King, the Bonny Prince… Jamie. She had never listened, had only fought and scrapped and demanded her right. Jamie had loved her for it then, had taken heart in her passion and her refusal to be chained down. He had loved her zeal and devotion. 

But now, years later? Now that he had years of separation to grieve the loss of her? He saw she had only been another prison. 

Jamie didn’t regret the choices he had made with her by his side. He didn’t regret France, trying to turn the tides of Colloden, to keep his kin from being slaughtered like livestock. But with the distance and time, Jamie now saw that his choices had never been his own. He had them taken away by everyone. Dougal, Colum, Randall, Claire. Now he wanted to make his own decisions, face his own consequences. 

His thoughts were interrupted with the distant echo of bootfalls on stone and he felt Robbie tense beside him. “Dinna fash yerself, Robbie. Just watch after Geordie,” he bade as he stood when the soldier’s unlocked the cell and motioned him out.    
  
“Yes, Mac Dubh,” Robbie promised as he took Jamie’s place to brace Geordie. 

“Fraser,” the guard called impatiently and Jamie shuffled forward and out of the cell to follow without another word. He was led up to the Governor’s quarters and eyed the man when he entered. Candles did little to cut the gloom of the prison walls, even in the refined rooms that were afforded the officer.    
  
The fire roared in its grate, though, and it did a little to cut through the chill that seemed permanently imprinted in his skin. He stepped forward, squaring himself in front of the slight blonde that sat in front of him. The man had slight, delicate features and wide expressive eyes. They shone with horror at the sight of Jamie and he felt an equal mix of shame and satisfaction at how his very presence affected the younger man. He should be horrified. But whether it was the filth and rags themselves or the knowledge that he was complacent in Jamie’s state was unknown. 

“Ah, Mr. Fraser, I’ve been informed that you are a leader of sorts with the men imprisoned here.” The words came fluidly with a high born tone and cadence that spoke of a comfortable upbringing. Wealthy, a minor noble. But then what had dragged him to the hell of Ardsmuir. Jamie’s mind was only half engaged with the conversation, his eyes spending just as much time gathering information as his ears. The way John shied away from the rat, how he flinched when he got too close and could smell the filth and sweat that seemed permanently etched in Jamie’s skin. He felt like he would never be clean again and it appeared the new Governor agreed with that assessment. 

Lord Grey seemed horrified at the idea of the men eating rats and Jamie hoped that his simple naivety would work in their favor for better rations, blankets. Anything that would make the hell of captivity a little easier to swallow. John requested that Jamie join him for dinners. Jamie wondered why the man who seemed so horrified at his very appearance would be so interested in sharing a meal with him. Surely it was distasteful to the Lord? Jamie mostly felt guilt in his acceptance as it meant that he would eat while his kin would starve. But it was a choice… except that it wasn’t and once again Jamie felt the shackles tighten around him at the thought. “Of course, M’lord, if it pleases ye.” 

\--- 

Of all of his captivities, his time with John was the most pleasant. The chance to wash himself clean. The ability to sit without shackles. A chance at food that wasn’t rancid, and a game of chess to stretch his mind. He still felt the weight of captivity as it settled over him, however. He felt it in the long glances at his scarred wrists when Grey thought he didn’t notice. He felt it in the weight that pushed down on him as the guards refastened the shackles and led him back to the cell. He felt it in the air, pregnant with desire and promise at the soft touch of Grey's hand upon his own. 

Still, his friendship with the man strengthened even as they didn’t acknowledge what was between him despite the flogging, the escape, the return. Despite the long looks and the shuttered sentences left half started before they lapsed into silence. 

A year passed. Ardsmuir prison was to be closed. 

Jamie wondered for a brief moment if he would get the chance to taste freedom again. If he would be shipped off to the Americas where he could start anew. But instead he found himself bound and dragged behind Grey’s horse, dragged off to his newest form of Captivity.    
  
It was nice, overall. To work with horses, to have his own space. His wrists had healed with only the faintest sheen of scars to mark the shackles that still wrapped invisible. He could feel them still, some nights, when the darkness shrouded close and it hurt to breathe to think of all that had occurred. 

As prisons go, and name notwithstanding, Helwater was a kindness that Jamie sometimes felt he didn’t deserve. The type of home that tasted sometimes of freedom, when he had run of the grounds and could eat well and tame beasts, caring for them. His life had been reduced down to the simplest of tasks and while it was no different than living with Clan Mackenzie, it held not the horrors of Culloden or Ardsmuir. 

John too, was there. Lord Grey took to writing, and the correspondence allowed Jamie a feeling of worth. A tentative grasp of civility which had escaped him so long. Each letter was balm to the chasm in his stomach, filling it a little more with light until Jamie stopped praying for death each night. 

Some of the events at Helwater were hardly pleasant. The entire affair with Geneva and Lord Ransom, poor wee William. It was yet another bond that Jamie would never shake free. A son he couldn’t care for, another life ruined by his presence in it. Another chance for the shackles to tighten. 

He lived with it though, fulfilling his time and keeping his head down. But the bonny lad was the light of Jamie’s life and he relished each stolen opportunity to spend time with the boy as he grew. He taught him to ride horses, to be kind and gentle. To recognize his station but never forget his humanity. The stolen moment where he baptized Willie, helped him become a “stinking papist” would remain forever dear to his heart. 

But the shackles tightened, and the noose grew close. It was becoming apparent that Willie resembled Jamie too much to hide, and soon the rumors would start. It was why Jamie was walking with Lord Grey into the woods, his heart hammering in his chest. 

He had to make a choice. 

He had gone so long without having choices. Without options. He had no way of knowing if this choice was right. He hardly trusted himself to make one. It had been so long since his last chance. He was uncharacteristically silent as they walked and he could feel Grey’s eyes on him as they paced deeper into the woods. 

Eventually, in the silence of nature, the words haltingly tumbled from Jamie’s lips. They tasted like soot and ash on his tongue even as his heart yearned for John to say yes. The thought of it, giving in to what his heart yearned for, was tainted by Randall’s spector. The ghostly touch that poisoned each thought of John. But Randall had just been another shackle, and Jamie wanted to make the choice. His own choice. 

John recognized there was no choice at all. 

For all that Jamie yearned to taste the passion of John’s lips, to settle with him and know him biblically, he couldn’t truly choose when the shackles of Helwater weighed him down. Invisible though they were, they still stole the life he desired from him.    
  
“To think that I would ever hear such an offer!” The words fell from John’s lips softly, with wonder and longing and Jamie longed to scream to the heavens to free him so they both could fling themselves into the freedom of choice. Still, John agreed to take Willie. 

The fondness and love he held for Grey bloomed white hot in his chest, a rushing, roaring affection that outshone all before it. With John, love felt like freedom. A chance to make his own decisions. A hope for love requited where his agency would be respected. Jamie trembled with the desire for it, recognizing at once that he was hopelessly in love with the man who had wanted him for years. Wanted him, and yet remained content with his friendship until such a time that Jamie was able to make the choice without captivity staining it. 

Jamie trembled as he leaned forward, aware of the silks of John’s clothing as they contrasted with his own work rough wool. He took John’s hand, teasing fingers over softened skin with his own calloused digits before he placed a gentle kiss upon Grey’s cheek. 

One day, he would be free. And with that freedom, he would finally be able to choose. For now, he closed his eyes and let the soaring joy of lips pressed gently to perfumed skin be enough. 


End file.
